Joy had been young, hurt, scared, and consumed with guilt when she pledged to complete each of Judy’s lists. Achieving her sister’s goals and dreams was good in theory, but Joy’s older and wiser self sees the true way to atone for her mistakes and let go of the past is twofold: admit what she’d done wrong, then forgive herself.

“I was the one driving Judy’s car when it went off the road,” she says. Her confession is a waterfall of relief, washing away a burden she’s carried for more than half a lifetime.

Taryn’s mouth turns down. “I know. You told me,” she says gently.

“I did? When?” Joy asks, disbelieving.

“After one too many G&Ts at Mr. Purple, same night you told me about that guy you met on your way to New York.”

“Wow. I don’t remember.”

“You were stupid drunk, Jo-Jo.”

“Gee, thanks.” She gives her eyes a good roll. “What else did I say?”

“Pretty much everything. I’ve felt horrible you didn’t get the message we weren’t going to be at the cabin. I keep going over how differently that night could have turned out.”

“Trust me. You’re talking to the queen of hindsight.”

Taryn touched her shoulder. “I’m talking to a survivor. A warrior. I can’t believe the weight you’ve been carrying for so long.”

“You don’t think less of me?”

“Are you kidding? You’re the bravest person I know.”

Joy looks at the paper in her hand. A tear drops on the countertop, then another. For years she expected to be judged and rejected. Had she known her fears were unfounded, she never would have waited this long to admit the truth.

“I’ve been seeing a therapist.”

“I’m glad. Have you told your parents yet?”

Joy shakes her head. “I will, though. My therapist wants me to invite them to a session.” She shows Taryn Judy’s goal list. “Read this.”

Taryn takes the sheet of teenage girl stationery. Her eyes skim down the paper, then snap up to meet Joy’s. “You’ve done everything here except the kid thing. Oh, and marry Todd. But Mark kind of reminds me of him. That’s creepy, but cool, in a weird way.”

“I thought if I sacrificed my dreams for Judy’s I could make up for what I’d taken from my family.”

“Joy,” she sympathizes. She touches Joy’s hair, smooths it behind her shoulder. Her gaze lands on the Polaroids. “Is this the guy?”

“Dylan? Yes.” Joy spreads the photos out and air whooshes from her lungs. He was so good looking, and good to her. He got her.

Taryn admires the photo of her and Dylan in bed, smiling up at the camera. “He’s a hottie.”

Yes, he is.

Joy scoops up the photos and adds them to her purse.

“Think you’ll ever see him again?”